By the River

Chapter 1

April 1940

"Rosalie Edwards, sit up straight! You're in a drawing room, not the slums," Aunt Absinthe said crisply. "Yes, Aunt Absinthe," I muttered. I straightened slightly and shifted on my hard chair.

"Reverend James was kind enough to invite us for tea and I expect you to behave like the lady you are," she said in an undertone, "You're not a child anymore, so don't behave like one." I took a sip of my tea. It was ghastly sweet. "Yes, Ma'am," I spluttered slightly at the second sip.

"Rosalie!" she gasped, "Control yourself."

I looked up at my aunt as she sipped her tea primly. She was attractive for an older woman, I could see that she would have been considered "pretty" in her day. She had a softness to her face that could barely be seen now as she was always grimacing, and long hair that would have once been considered blonde. It had now dulled to an off-grey colour that, when pulled into her tight buns, made her look older than she was. She was a thin woman and somehow still managed to pull off the blue dresses she always wore.

Over the last few days I had become familiar with her constant scowling and brusque attitude, though I knew I would never truly be comfortable with it. I was used to the warmth of my governess, Ava, and her always-bright face. My aunt somehow always managed to blow things right out of proportion. Her responses to me seemed constantly negative, I didn't know what to do, I thought with a sigh.

"Don't sigh, girl!" She hissed at me, "It's disgustingly unladylike. And, Dear Lord above, could you sit up straight?"

Her exasperated tone was grating in the dull silence of the tiny room the priest's wife had dubbed a "drawing room". "I apologize, Aunt Absinthe," I said in a monotone as I reached for another biscuit.

We'd been settled in this "drawing room" by the priest's wife who had pottered off in search of him. She had returned a few minutes ago to say that he had been out working in the garden and was cleaning up. It had only been a few minutes but already I was bored to tears. As I munched on yet another biscuit I glanced around the room. Other than the small table we were seated at, there were barely any other furnishings. Save for a very comfortable looking brown armchair, the soft woven mat beneath us, a desk against the wall, and a small bookshelf that went halfway up the wall and was nestled in a corner. On the top shelf were sat three fat leather-bound books that looked suspiciously like photo albums. That got my attention.

I've always had a love for looking at photos. It was actually more of a need to look at them, an obsession. I'd looked at the photo of Sofia every day since I'd lost her. It had become a ritual for me, and even now my fingers twitched to reach out and grasp one of the books. The desire to know what was inside, to see all the faces and what their lives were like in those moments was so potent that I actually had to grip the edge of the table to stop myself.

Reverend James chose that moment to grace us with his presence. He opened the door rather timidly for a man of such height. His softly curled blonde hair contrasted starkly with his sharp and stern looking face. He looked to be about the age of my father but from the second he spoke I knew that his demeanour did not even vaguely resemble that of my fathers who was a kind and genuine man.

"Absinthe, a pleasure to see you again," nodding towards her. "And you must be Miss Rosalie," he said charmingly, but with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

I stood from my chair and reached out to warily shake his hand. I didn't trust him. "It's just Rosie, actually. No one calls me Rosalie." I said.

"Of course," he replied. "Wonderful to meet you finally, I've heard lots about you from your aunt here." He gave Aunt Absinthe a knowing look and sat down on the vacant chair. I settled myself back into my seat.